


After Party

by RumbleFish14



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Boys In Love, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gallavich, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:33:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25326196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RumbleFish14/pseuds/RumbleFish14
Summary: After that deep, passionate kiss at the club; Mickey joins Ian for the after party and gets a good look at how the other half lives
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 14
Kudos: 156





	After Party

**Author's Note:**

> I always wondered about the party; this is my guess, minus the slight smut...thats just my need for them tangled together

After Party  
(Oneshot)

If Mickey had to admit it, Ian was right. The guy from the club; Ian's regular, did have an amazing place. Not a house, or an apartment, but a loft. Which sounded fancy, uppity, until you realized it was one big space with all your shit stuffed into the same room. No doors, no walls, save the bathroom and those half-walls that gave the illusion of privacy. 

The skyline was pretty incredible, if you liked that sort of thing. Mindlessly staring out the same window to watch the lights on inside some building you'd probably never step foot in. Maybe a little people watching. Okay, so Mickey liked it a little. 

It was better than the view he or Ian had. No runned down houses, no graffiti staining the walls, no houses boarded up, no junkies lookin for their product or Frank lookin for a handout. The rest would have been tolerable, aside from Frank. 

It smelled better, too. No stale beer and cigarettes, but some sort of fancy fragrance emitting from one of those electric wax warmers; probably something labeled Boyfriends Night Out. The guy had one on nearly every surface and it was strong enough to give you a headache. 

Ian already pointed out this guys 'impressive' artwork. Which was just semi nude pictures of fit looking guys in one pose or another. Usually from the torso down to mid-thigh, lots of bare skin, lots of tense, overused muscles, lots of nothing else. And yeah, maybe they were good...if you were gay. 

Wait...they all were. 

Maybe Mickey liked those, too. 

They'd been welcomed in by flirty smiles, appreciative eye scans. Ian even greeted the host; the REGULAR, with a particularly cozy hug. One that was mostly innocent on Ian's part, but the regular paid for dances from Ian. Enough of them to earn the REGULAR status. He was interested in more than a hug or two from Ian. Anyone could see that. 

Which meant it rubbed Mickey the wrong way. As did the rest of the eyes on him, on them. With the crowd they were dealing with, it was hard to tell who was looking at who in a curious kind of way, or about to make a proposition kind of way. 

This was not his scene. Not the club or the fag parties after. Not dressing mildly impressive and drinking beer he couldn't pronounce. Not artwork probably worth a few hundred bucks when he could take the same photo of Ian for free, and easily like it ten times as much as some random. 

It was Ian's scene. From the dancing to the fancy drinks to the gathering of fags and talking about expensive artwork. Ian; with the easy, carefree smiles. Warm hugs, strong handshakes. Making small talk like it was the easiest thing in the world and feeling confident while he did so. 

Of course, most of them knew what Ian did for a living. Mickey had seen more than a few faces at the club. They knew ahead of time so there was no 'what do you do for a living' question. Unlike him, unlike that guy asking him the same damn question about being a pimp. It wasn't a lie, he didn't do that. And maybe the guy shouldn't have seemed so excited he was, or asked if he had a card. 

With all that out of the way, Ian left him alone to get drinks. Alone. Standing in the center of the room without anyone he knew, without a lifeline. Without knowing what the hell he was supposed to do with himself. 

If anything, he was afraid. Uncomfortable. Unsure what to do or say, unsure what to talk about or how to carry a conversation if someone happened to step up and get all Chatty Cathy with him.

His palms were beyond sweaty, he had to keep wiping them off on the side of his jeans. Sweat made his shirt cling to his skin, making him wish he ditched the long sleeved over-shirt when he had the chance. He was shifty, fidgeting, and trying not to show it. 

These guys find a weakness and they exploit it. Like wolves. Like lions. Picking on the weaker one to take what they wanted. Okay, so maybe not as outright and vicious as that, more subtle, but it was all the same. Dog eat dog world...was literal. 

Ian was the buffer. Ian had a smooth way to handle shit like this. He was natural at mingling, at being himself and nothing more. At fielding questions and taking compliments. Ian was everything he wasn't. 

To keep himself busy and not just standing in the same spot Ian left him at like a fucking creep, he made his way to the window with that 'fabulous' view...yeah, he said that with way too much flair, even if it was only in his head. 

Enjoy the view, don't look around and catch anyone's eyes. He said that again and again in his mind and did his best to actually do it, only when someone moved, he tensed. Thinking they were coming for him at any moment. To say he was a nervous wreck would be an understatement. 

"Okay, so regular beer."

Ian's voice actually made him jump. He cursed because of it, shoulders tensed, fists curled where they rested on the windowsill, teeth clenched and deep, even breaths in from his nose, out through his mouth.

Ian chuckled, of course. A knowing smile on his lips. "Sorry, thought you heard me."

"Not so much." Mickey took the offered beer and met Ian's amused, but understanding eyes and gave him a smile. "Can't even pronounce this shit."

When Ian took a drink of whatever fruity looking drink that other asshole saddled him with, something pink looking with a piece of fruit on the rim, Mickey could still see the smile on Ian's lips. If he widened it, alcohol would spill out the side, which would be as cute as it would be entertaining. 

"Don't gotta pronounce it to drink it."

Mickey tilted his head in agreement and took a casual drink. It wasn't bad, surprisingly enough. He took another drink and Ian smiled again. "Not bad."

Ian nudged his elbow. "Good."

"So," Mickey motioned around the busy room. "How many of these guys do you actually know?"

"Not many, and not in depth or anything. Most I've seen at the club, but we don't really exchange names."

"Yeah, no shit. Just old man juice." Mickey replied curtly and Ian snorted into his drink, not amused. "Just sayin, not sure I'd wanna toss back drinks with people I gotta straddle daily."

"I'd actually pay to see that." Ian chuckled. "And it's not that bad, Mick. Could be worse. Least none of them are old."

That much was true. The oldest guy there seemed to be in his early 30's and didn't look a day over 21. Nicely pressed clothes, fancy shmancy hairdos, some expensive, enticing smelling cologne, talking about sophisticated shit he knew nothing about. 

All he said was, "I guess." Then went silent. 

He and Ian stared out the window for a while. Not saying anything, not touching more than the sleeves of their shirts brushing every now and then. It wasn't bad, not with Ian around, not with only Ian around. 

Too bad it wouldn't stay that way. 

"Wanna walk around, mingle?"

Mickey snorted, making Ian shift beside him. "I don't mingle, Gallagher."

Ian nodded solemnly. "Why'd you come then?"

At that, Mickey just looked at him. Showing obvious emotion on his face, praying, hoping that Ian got it without him saying it out loud. But Ian got it, smiling in that reserved way he only used with him.

"Well, we can't just stand here and stare out the window like a couple of serial killers." Ian glanced around, Mickey, too and could see a few sets of eyes on them. "It'll make shit weird."

Shit was already weird, but he didn't need to point that out. He also didn't want to ruin the night, which he knew he could easily, because Ian invited him as his plus one. Ian wanted him there. That was enough of a reason for him to go, the only reason. Aside from making those rich fucks didn't take advantage of anything Ian had. 

But there was no way he could successfully 'mingle' with Ian. It would be Ian walking up to people, laughing at dumb jokes, falling easily into conversation, then him hanging in the background like some socially awkward asshole, oh, and drinking, too. The only thing he was good at. He could drink and drink and maybe the party would eventually get better. 

"So?" Ian asked, pulling Mickey out of his head. 

"You go ahead." Mickey nodded to the crowd. "Go talk, mingle...whatever the fuck you do."

"I'm not just gonna ditch you, Mick."

"You won't be," he wiggled his empty beer bottle for emphasis. "I'm gonna grab another one."

The look remained on Ian's face. He wasn't convinced. Which was bad, because they came so Ian could have fun and see people. Like a normal person. So, it was more than just them two all the time...even when Mickey liked it better that way. 

"Mick…"

"Shut it, Gallagher," Mickey nudged his arm, smiling as much as he possibly could just then. "I bet I'll mingle a little better with more booze."

Mickey won the little stare down. Not giving in, or backing out, or begging Ian not to leave him alone with these people; which was at the forefront of his mind. Ian caved, his shoulders hunching in, his smile faltering. 

"I won't go far," Ian promised, moving over a little to face him. "Just come find me after that drink."

Mickey nodded, doing all he could not to meet his eyes. To give himself away so quickly. "Yeah, I'll do that."

With all said that needed to be said, Mickey thought Ian would mosey off and mingle. He didn't expect Ian to grip the sleeve of his shirt, then bend down, in front of an entire room full of people, and lay a soft kiss on his lips. 

It was nothing compared to the kiss they shared at the club two hours ago, not as wild and passionate, but it was far better than that kiss if you asked him. It was soft, sweet, chaste enough to make him want another, then another, enough to make his stomach tighten.

Which was probably the point. 

His face heated on command, showing pink cheeks just as Ian pulled back. His heart felt like it was beating twice as fast, lodged in his throat, and that nervous pit in his stomach turned into something else, something need driven. He knew because that asshole smiled. 

"Blushin?"

Mickey scoffed, rubbing his cheek on his sleeve, nervous sweat building on his hairline. "Nope, just the booze."

Ian smiled, taking a step back, then another. "Yeah, sure."

Their eyes held, darkening his blush, until Ian turned around, walking to their host, the REGULAR.

He watched for a minute. At first he watched Ian's walk, his gait, all swag, confidence. He watched Ian's hello smile, he watched Ian's free hand come around their hosts back, squeezing once before it dropped. He watched Ian get introduced to the small crowd of people, nodding at each of them. More smiling, then small talk. Laughing, talking and talking and eyes wandering. 

Mickey's chest tightened. 

This was not who he was. It never would be if he had his say so. Did he want to be confident like Ian? Yeah, of course. Did he want to be able to talk to people without his guard being up? Yeah. But he didn't want to be like those people. Not all fake small talk; cheesy, unimportant discussions with alcohol he needed a degree to pronounce. 

He didn't want to be fake. 

Once the conversation was going steady, Mickey forced himself away from the window. He kept Ian in his peripheral vision and moved around the room, towards the bar. 

It was rather packed, guys sitting or standing shoulder to shoulder, but he went anyway. Luckily two of them moved, giving him easy access to slip between the others and land a seat before the seat could be swallowed by the crowd. 

"What can I get ya?"

Mickey looked up to see a rather attractive guy behind the bar. Not dressed professionally, but casually, twisting a rag in the bottom of one glass. A friendly smile. Kind eyes, eyes that stayed on his face, not wandering his body like a lost child. 

Mickey wiggled the bottle at him. "Whatever the fuck this is."

The guy laughed, the corner of his eyes crinkling under black rimmed glasses. "First time here?"

Mickey nodded and let him take the empty bottle. "Yeah, s'not really for me."

A new bottle was placed on the bar top. "Yeah, it takes gettin used to, that's for sure. But it's fun, if you're into expensive beer and shitty artwork."

With half his mouth full of beer, Mickey snorted, nearly inhaling the liquid. The guy smiled. "Yeah, not into either, actually."

"So, why are you here then?"

Mickey shrugged, like he had no idea why, until Ian's laugh made it to his ears and his body shuddered enough to be noticeable. Until the guy laughed. 

"Oh, you're here with Ian?"

Mickey opened his eyes, then narrowed them. "Yeah, why?"

The guy held his hands up, showing he meant no harm. Only Mickey didn't know how he knew Ian so casually. He and Ian were together; he had a right to get a little territorial.

"Easy man, I don't know Ian like that."

"No?" Mickey clicked his teeth. "How do you know him then?"

"Most people know Ian from the club, so I hear his name a lot." The guy answered, a little apprehensive. "The guy hosting this little party, know him?"

Mickey snorted. "Oh yeah, the REGULAR." He rolled his eyes, hating himself a little for his reaction to all this. "Some party."

The guy laughed. "Yeah, well I guess he goes to the club a lot, just because of Ian."

Mickey swallowed his growl, his hands twisted into fists again. Eager for a fight.

"It's obvious why, but I don't think he imagined Ian having a boyfriend."

"Why's that?" Mickey asked, a little confused. "You seen the way he looks, yeah? Why the fuck would be be single?"

"I don't doubt his game when it comes to how he looks, he has that in the bag."

Mickey nodded, fully agreeing. 

"But he does work at a strip club, yeah? Dancing or whatever, but still. I'm not sure I'd be able to date a guy who did that."

Now he understood. This guy was wondering how he was okay with Ian's job, which he wasn't. He never had been. But like everything else, it was out of his control. 

Mickey couldn't ask Ian to stop, anymore than Ian asking him to stop running Russian whores from above The Alibi Room.

Before he replied, Mickey chugged the beer, burped loudly until that guy smiled and a new beer was set in front of him. "Might wanna put some shots up here."

With a knowing smile, the guy; whose name Mickey still didn't know, lined up five shots and poured liquid into it. Tequila if he had to guess, which was bad. Mickey could handle his booze, but he already knew that when he started to drink, he wouldn't stop like he normally did. 

Being social was hard. Watching Ian with other guys was hard.

"Top notch booze, one good thing about this place."

With two shots already gone, Mickey drank from his beer. "I get what you're saying man, I really do. And I'm not sure if I'd call it being his boyfriend, but we are together."

The knowing bastard just nodded. Like he wanted to argue his point being made in a few words, but he didn't.

"And yeah, the club angle isn't my favorite thing, but as long as it stays business only then we won't have a problem."

Mister REGULAR seemed liked  
he wanted more than Ian's company for an hour. Something he wasn't entitled to and never would be. 

"He's a decent guy, really. And now that he knows Ian is taken, I'm sure he won't try as hard as he has been."

Mickey took another two shots, not feeling the burn this time. "He better not, or we're gonna have a fuckin problem."

On instinct, Mickey half turned, facing the crowd. He glanced for red hair and found Ian exactly where he left him, only him and mister REGULAR were alone. Smiling, talking. 

"Here, keep drinking."

Mickey turned and all the shot glasses were back at full. He thanked him with a curt nod and down the first two without blinking. 

"Careful though, or he might have to carry you home."

"That would be something," Mickey said after he considered it. He smiled at the image of Ian trying to carry him home. "I'm short, but damn heavy."

The guys eyes slid up and down his body in one of those sensual ways that couldn't be misconstrued as anything but flirting. It was harmless, but it had been a while since anyone but Ian looked at him like that. Or maybe it happened frequently and he hadn't noticed.

"You two planning on staying over?"

Mickey frowned in disgust. "Why the fuck would we do that?"

"Most do. They drink too much and can't drive, or…"

Mickey cut him off. "Call a damn cab, or one of those gay ass uber cars."

"Or," he continued, grinning. "They come here to hook up and end up finding a little private space."

"Where, like the bathroom?" Mickey said, the sarcasm was back again. "Let me guess, they just bang it out on any given surface."

"I've seen it happen a time or two, but most of us are pretty drunk by the time it gets there, so we don't see as much as you'd think."

These were the kinda people Ian wanted to hang out with? Ones with no need for privacy? Ready and willing to pick up and fuck anyone they wanted, including his…Ian? 

Mickey took another shot. "I'm liking this place less and less each time you open your mouth."

Surprisingly enough, the guy didn't seem too offended by his lack of filter. He almost seemed amused by it, open to it and all he had to say, even when most of it was negative. 

"I'm Trevor, by the way."

Mickey raised an eyebrow at him, the guy; Trevor, only smiled again. He didn't look like he expected a name in return, his hand wasn't out for a shake, like the others, and he didn't ask for a card. Which was the only reason Mickey offered his name as well. 

"Mickey."

"Mickey, nice to meet you." Trevor smiled. "More shots?"

Two beers and seven shots was probably plenty to go 'mingle' with Ian's douchy friends. Only he didn't want to now. Not because he was nervous still, the booze had taken care of that, but because he was okay there for a moment. Taking to one guy about real shit. 

"Naw, man. M'good with just beer." He gripped the bottle and fought not to look at Ian again. "And no, by the way, I don't think we are planning to sleep over."

Trevor nodded. "It's not just cuz Ian is here, ya know. It happens at each party, with or without him. People just drink til they pass out and wake up to him making breakfast. By now it's normal."

"Not my kinda normal." Mickey whispered but knew he still heard it. And for some reason, the booze was making him a little chatty. Or it could have been the guys easy going nature. "How about you?"

"How about me what?"

"You here for the faggy sleepover or the free ass around here?"

Trevor snorted, which made Mickey smile. He covered it up by taking a drink. It didn't help, but it made him feel better. 

"Just a friend of a friend, actually. I don't really do the sleepover thing, or the free ass thing either. Just like to be around people until they piss me off, make a few bucks slingin drinks."

"Sounds like me." Mickey laughed. "Only I never wanna be around people. Free booze is nice, not interested in ass, or dick for that matter."

"Well, whatever you have with Ian, call it what you will, it must really be important for you to come here with him if you hate everyone."

Was it obvious? Probably not. Only reason Trevor knew is because he told him. Yeah, most people realized he didn't belong, and was way, way uncomfortable and unapproachable, but they didn't know the only reason he was there was because Ian asked him.

Fuck, he was turning into a sap. 

"You love him?"

Although the question caught him off guard, and if he hadn't had all those shots, he probably would have beaten the fuck out of Trevor, Mickey didn't hesitate on that question. He nodded, leaving no room for miscommunication. 

"Well, I'm sure it's mutual. He hasn't stopped looking at you since you reached the bar."

Surprise had his eyebrows lifting. He turned, his eyes landing on Ian within a few seconds. Green eyes were on him for a split second before they looked away, back to his conversation.

"When you're not looking, he looks." Trevor said. 

Mickey turned back. "Probably just making sure I don't strangle anyone or try to lift all this fancy shit." He motioned to all the priceless, but totally expensive stuff around the loft. "I have a habit of doing both."

At that, saying he was a hot-headed asshole and a thief, Trevor laughed. Not that nervous laugh, but an amused one. 

"I guess if it makes you feel better believing that's the only reason he's looking." Trevor shook his head. "He's looking at you because you're talking to me."

Mickey scoffed. "What, like you're the one that snatches up all the unoccupied bottoms around here?"

"I've been known to snatch a few, but only the free ones. Sex is good but it's not worth a fight. And it could be me, or the guy next to you, or the one across the room; wouldn't matter. He doesn't like you talking to anyone."

Ian had been known to be a little jealous. Hell, Mickey was, too. But he had never been in a situation like this before. A social one with nothing but attractive gay guys. The club didn't count, that was an illusion, this was real. The possibilities were endless.

Was Ian really jealous?

With another look back, green eyes darted away again, confirming what Trevor said and what he wondered. Ian was jealous, keeping tabs on him. 

"Well, it's not like he doesn't have it comin. He's been talkin up mister REGULAR for nearly an hour, most know him from work and have seen a fuck load more than I'd like. The only thing I'm doing is drinking."

"Mister REGULAR does have a name ya know."

"The fuck if I care," Mickey waved it away, making Trevor's ever present smile widen once again. "What I'm sayin is, all we're doing is talking; about my many issues. While Ian is talking about shit he doesn't really care about with people who don't fucking matter. Like, how many times do you gotta touch one guy when you talk?"

Fuck, now he was jealous. He even sounded jealous. Frankly, he had been since Ian introduced him, before drinks. Each touch intensified that feeling, each lingering look between Ian and some other guy, even when it was innocent on Ian's part, harmless. It grated on his nerves. 

If they were both jealous of them being around other people, why weren't they together? Leaving maybe. Why were they even here?

"I'd say it's a gay thing, but I don't wanna lie. Touching like that is flirting. Same as laughing at dumb jokes, making too much eye contact. It's all different versions of flirting."

Mickey clenched his teeth. "Gee, thanks."

Laughing, Trevor shook his head. "If you let me finish, I was going to say that Ian isn't doing any of those things. A handshake upon greeting or a farewell isn't the same as touching someone's hand during a conversation. Ian doesn't do that."

Deep breath. Drink. Mickey did it twice to settle the nerves, to get his fist to unclench, to get his heart back down to a safe rhythm. 

He and Ian were good at the moment. He had no reason to be jealous. He couldn't control the way others acted towards Ian, only how Ian chose to react to what was happening. 

"Maybe you should go over?" Trevor offered, shrugging a little. "No reason for distance if you both know what you want."

"Just walk over, interrupt whatever the hell they're talking about?"

"Yes, Mickey. I can guarantee Ian is gonna be much happier with you there. He'll stop whatever the fuck they're talking about and probably be in a better mood."

This was so unlike him. Talking advice, any advice, especially that of another man, about how to deal with his man. Not even Mandy felt safe enough to talk to him about it and Ian was her friend, his sister. Now Trevor was helping. Giving advice, encouraging him to break first and make the first move. 

But could he do it?

"I guess it's worth a try." Mickey said quietly, regretting how much he was opening up. "Could be worse things."

Suddenly, Trevor's back straightened, like someone shocked him with a taser but a big smile appeared, sending him mixed signals. 

"Or you might not have to."

Mickey narrowed his eyes. "Why not?"

"Because he's coming to you."

Adrenaline pumped like acid through his veins, amping him up. Normally for a fight, or for sex and with Ian, it could go either way. 

"Fuck," Mickey said just before Ian appeared at his side, pushing the guy next to him away to make room. "Hey."

Yeah, it was lame but he couldn't think. His alcohol induced body was lacking. His brain working at half power, his heartbeat so loud Ian could probably hear it. Sweat pooled quickly, so did the shakes, the jelly legs. 

He was panicking. 

"Hey," Ian said back and Mickey could smell that fruity drink on Ian's lips. 

"What's up?" He said, non-chalantly, glancing at Trevor to see that he bailed, that asshole. "Want a shot?"

Ian glanced at the bar. "No, not really."

"More for me then." Mickey took the first one, clearing his throat after. "Done letting the host eye fuck you?"

The moment that came out, Mickey cursed and shut his eyes. That wasn't what he meant to say. He had it planned in his mind until that last shot took the wheel and led him in another direction all together. 

"I was being polite, since it's his party, his house. What's your excuse?"

"The fuck are you gettin at?" Mickey barked, moving his arm so it didn't rest against Ian's chest. "I'm trying to drink this party away."

"Yeah sure, all that laughing and smiling looked like you were doing more." Ian shot back, voice heated. 

They were really doing this; taking cheap shots at each other even when they knew nothing had been happening on both sides. 

It was probably bad that his body began to react in another way. Not panicking anymore, not nervous, but worked up, sexed up. All that testosterone pumping along with the alcohol, toss in that sexual tension that always clouded around them, it was bound to get nasty. 

"You come over here for another pussy drink, or you wanna actually drink?" Mickey said with a snarky tone and pushed the last shot towards him. "Hmm?"

Without hesitation, Ian tossed back the shot and nearly broke the glass as he slammed it against the table. Mickey shivered as Ian's hot breath coasted against his cheek, now tinted with real booze. 

"Happy now?"

Mickey swiveled in his chair until he was facing Ian. Now nose to nose, eyes meeting, sparking unimaginable heat. He actually closed his eyes, trying to breathe past the need, the want.

"We need to talk." 

Mickey's eyes opened. Seeing Ian's darting all over the loft, a little crazy like. Like he was searching for something. "We are talking."

"You know what I mean, come on."

When Ian stood, he gripped Mickey's bicep hard and pulled him off the stool. Mickey went along with it, set his beer down before it shattered and let Ian lead him through the crowd like he just threw a temper tantrum.

Everyone was watching. The host; who looked a little shocked and still managed to look jealous. Trevor too, only he smiled, and gave him a thumbs up like the well-mannered asshole he was. 

It should have been embarrassing enough to piss him off and start a real fight. One that ended in bloody kisses and unsolved problems. The alcohol gave him the courage to keep it up, the adrenaline and testosterone was enough to force his feet to move a little faster, helping Ian man handle him.

Although the guys home was essentially one room, Ian managed to find the only corner of privacy in the entire place. A dark corner wedged between the hallway to the bathroom and the half-wall of the kitchen. It was dark enough to see the light freckles on Ian's upper lip but dark enough to shield them from prying eyes.

Mickey let Ian push him against the wall, hard enough to rattle his back teeth. His moan from Ian aligning his body with his own, muffled the sound of his shoulders hitting the wall.

Ian was hot to the touch, even when they only touched through their clothes. Mickey hissed when their chests touched, then the tips of their noses. That heat traveled south, pooling in his groin. Hardening him until Ian gave that deep groan, feeling him. 

"Somethin you want?" Mickey asked, his voice rough from booze and arousal. His eyes dropped to Ian's lips. "Hmm?"

Ian caged him in with his arms, his forearms pressed into the wall on either side of Mickey's face. "I want you."

"Yeah?" Mickey asked, a smile flirting with his lips. "Didn't get that vibe from you before."

"I was watchin you all night." Ian moved closer until their noses rubbed together, lips almost touching. "I think it's cute, by the way."

His smile slipped. "What's cute?"

"You trying to make me jealous." Ian clarified, his eyes moving from his eyes to his mouth. "Trying to get a rise outta me."

Mickey shoved him back a little by his chest. Ian rebounded quickly, once again pressing fully against him. "Didn't have to try that hard, bitch. In fact, I didn't try at all. He had to tell me you were lookin at me."

Ian shook his head. "I saw you lookin back at me, Mick."

"Only because Trevor told me."

"Oh, so it's Trevor now?" Ian asked, his voice a little higher than it had been. "Can't remember the hosts name, didn't even fucking try, but you remember Trevor's name?"

Mickey grinned, the slight irritation melting away. "Sounds to me like you're the jealous one, hmm?"

"I'm not jealous, Mick. You can only be jealous of something that isn't already yours."

Heat flooded into his groin, making him ache. 

"And you're mine, you always have been." Ian turned his head and pressed a series of wet kisses along Mickey's cheek. "So, I'm not jealous. A little territorial, maybe. But not jealous."

For a moment, Mickey just stayed quiet and enjoyed those kisses. He didn't groan, or beg for more and aside from the tight grip he had on either side of Ian's jeans, he didn't move a muscle. 

"Sound about right?" Ian asked into his ear. 

"No, it doesn't." Mickey tilted his head until it pushed against Ian's. Until their eyes locked. "Told you I wasn't trying to flirt, unlike you. You were all over that asshole."

Ian shook his head. "No, I wasn't. He kept touching me, not the other way around. Aside from a handshake, I didn't touch him."

"Maybe not touching, but how about all that smiling shit, hmm? Or the too loud laughter." Mickey leaned back so they stopped touching. He saw Ian's jaw clench. "Lots of handshakes, lots of different guys."

"Mick…"

"Oh, and Trevor did say most of them are only here because of you. That gay sleepover shit designed for people to hook up, bet what's-his-name had that in mind when he invited you."

Now his voice had a hint of anger in it, jealousy. Only in that moment did he realize that Ian was never jealous. Shocked maybe, that he talked to someone else, flirted without meaning to, but he was never jealous. 

"I came because he asked, yeah. But I never intended to sleep with anyone." Ian dropped his hand and slid it under his shirt. Mickey shivered, but didn't react. "I like talking to people. Being around them. Drinking a little. But I would never sleep with them."

Mickey rolled his eyes, and Ian only laughed. 

"Even if I didn't ask you to come, I'd still be leaving alone." Ian's hand slid up, his fingertips brushing Mickey's ribcage. "I'd rather be at home, in either of our shitty beds, wrapped up in you."

"Fuck," Mickey cursed softly, his stomach tightening. "Unless you're planning on doing it here, shut the hell up."

Ian smiled wickedly, his hand moving up just a little more until he brushed over Mickey's nipple. "You wanna do it here? Right in this corner?"

By now, Mickey had his hands firmly on Ian's hips. Both trying to pull him closer and push him away. He dug his nails in and tried to ignore how hard Ian was against him.

"Ian," Mickey said, a moan erupted when Ian lightly pinched his nipple. 

"Let's do it here." Ian slipped his hand down until he could cup him fully, rubbing enough to earn a few deep groans. "Damn, you're hard as hell." 

"Fuck you," Mickey pushed his hips forward, making Ian squeeze his hand tighter. "You're just as hard as I am."

"Yeah, I am." Ian leaned forward until he bit Mickey's bottom lip, then released it a moment later. "Wanna ditch this party? Fuck around in the cab until we get to your place?"

Mickey nodded without meaning to. But his words didn't match his actions. "Better stay, don't need your REGULAR thinking you're a dick for ditching early."

"I don't give a fuck about him, Mick." 

The kiss came out of nowhere. They were talking and suddenly Mickey was kissing him. Not just a peck on the lips, but a full fledged kiss. His hands in Ian's hair, thumbs on his strong jaw, turning him to deepen it, their tongues fighting for dominance, egging the other on. 

When it ended, Mickey had his hand halfway down the front of Ian's jeans, only stopping because his belt got in the way. They were panting heavily, heads pushed together, Ian's hands squeezing his ass, pulling him closer. 

"We need to leave." 

"We can't drive." Mickey replied. 

"We took a cab," Ian grinned. "We don't even own cars."

At that, Mickey started to giggle. All because of too much to drink because he never giggled like that unless he was drunk. Maybe he was drunker than he thought. 

"What about the party?" Mickey asked again, slipping his hand away from Ian's jeans, just as Ian removed his hands from his ass. 

Their clothes were bunched, wrinkled, pulled in one direction or another. Mickey felt the sweat dripping down his spine, he could see it dripping down the side of Ian's neck. The moment they stepped out of the shadows, anyone who looked at them would know what they did, or tried to do. 

"I can say goodbye, then we can leave."

Mickey scoffed and pushed Ian back. Only this time Ian didn't move back into place. Mickey moved forward, too, away from the shadows. "Yeah, can't leave without sayin bye to that asshole."

Ian's eyebrows rose playfully. He hooked a finger into Mickey's shirt neck and pulled him out into the open. "Maybe you need to say goodbye to Trevor, hmm?"

Mickey's mouth opened, then closed without saying anything else. 

"Yeah, that's what I thought. So, quit with that shit."

With that said and understood, Mickey looked away from Ian and took in the room. He expected people to be staring at them, heated eyes and flushed cheeks, just waiting to call them out on it. Only no one was watching, they were all, or most, occupied with each other. 

Couples and threesomes were spread out all over the room. Some paired off, leaning against the walls, kissing and touching. Others were pushed against a few love seats, moving so fast Mickey couldn't see whose hands belonged to who. Some were alone, just watching, drinking. Enjoying it all.

It was chaos. Like one big orgy. All involved in one way or another, touching and teasing and tasting whatever was available. Taking their pleasure in another, in each other in whatever way they could. 

It was odd, to say the least. Mickey wasn't sure if this was the main idea of the party, or if one thing led to another that led to another and everyone just went with it. But he did know that he shouldn't have been watching as hard as he did. He shouldn't be staring as his stomach tightened again. 

"Damn, looks like they're ahead of us a little." Ian chuckled and wrapped an arm around Mickey's neck. "Fuck."

"Kinda nasty." Mickey only lied a little bit and by Ian's chuckle, he knew he was lying, too. "Sex parties now?"

Together they moved forward, walking slowly so they could watch. Mickey glanced at one couple until clothing started to come off. Shoes mostly, jackets, overshirts; probably way too hot, but nothing that revealed skin yet. 

"A bunch of single, horny guys, add booze and yeah, I guess that equals sex party." Ian replied distractedly. 

Mickey glanced up at him, watching Ian watch them. He could see the way he clenched his jaw, his eyes darting around the room, even tilting his head a little as if he were trying for a better angle. 

"We goin?" Mickey asked, nudging Ian's side until he glanced down. 

"Y-yeah," Ian stuttered. "Wanna call a cab?"

Mickey clicked his tongue against his teeth. "What, you'd rather stay and watch?"

"What?" Ian asked, his voice high pitched. "No, just thought that….I don't know. Maybe we could stay and play around, maybe?"

Mickey's eyebrows did that creative dance into his hairline. "Play how exactly?"

As if realizing how it sounded, Ian shook his head quickly. "No, not like that, Mick. I meant like you and me, just us. Park it on a couch until the cab arrives or something."

So, Ian didn't want to 'play' with other people. He simply wanted to watch while they played a little bit. A serious session of foreplay before the cab ride home, something they'd never done before. But if they watched people, people would watch them and he didn't know if he was okay with that or not.

"I mean, we don't have to." Ian pulled him towards the door. "We can just wait outside."

Ian really, really wanted to do it. Mickey could see it. It was like live porn, actually in and around the excitement. Front row seats. 

"Just wait a damn second," Mickey stopped walking, forcing Ian to shuffle back or let go. "I didn't say no, I just wanted to make sure what you wanted."

Ian nodded but Mickey couldn't get him to meet his eyes. 

"Tell me." Mickey urged, tipping Ian's chin up. "Hmm."

"I don't know," Ian rubbed the back of his neck. "Just thought it might be kinda...sexy, maybe? Fuck, I don't know what the word for it is...uh."

Mickey snorted out a laugh. "If there is a word for it, I've never heard of it." Ian blushed again, a nervous wreck. "But maybe, I don't know, we can give it a shot?"

Ian peeled up, smiling just enough for Mickey to shake his head. "Really?"

"As long as no one tries to join, yeah, maybe we can try." Mickey quickly glanced around the room, looking for a place out of the way but still neck deep in it. He spotted a bed in the back by the window, furthest from the door. Unoccupied. "There?"

Ian followed as Mickey pointed, then nodded, that sweet, happy smile and Mickey felt his body give in just enough to make excitement wash over him

"Didn't think you'd pick a bed, Mick." Ian wiggled his eyebrows, then walked them closer, swaying a little. 

Mickey elbowed him. "It's literally the only place without people grinding against it."

The bed looked really inviting. It was large, possibly a queen. Dark bedding, soft pillows, with a great view of the sky behind it. Although in the same room as the rest of the place, it seemed a little more private, secluded. Or that could have been the illusion of booze.

It gave them plenty of room to move without bumping elbows or any other body parts with other people. But it also gave them a full view of the rest of the room. Every single inch, something that Ian seemed to want. And if he was being honest, he wanted it, too.

"How far are we taking this?"

The excitement rolled off Ian in waves, he should have been rubbing his hands together in that typical television villan fashion when hatching an evil plan. Maybe petting a white cat as he openly cackled in that insane way.

"Clothes stay on," Mickey said firmly and sat on the end of the bed, looking up at him. "And if anyone comes near this bed, I'm gonna kill em, then you."

Ian grinned and sauntered forward until he was standing only inches from where Mickey sat. "With how you acted tonight, I doubt they'll come within fifteen feet of this bed."

Mickey glanced around, glaring at one couple who were close enough to rattle him. They detached from where they were wrapped around each other and quickly moved away. 

Now alone; also an illusion, Mickey took a deep breath, doing his best to breathe past the alcohol in his blood and made eye contact with Ian. 

"You sure?" Ian asked, cupping Mickey's face. 

The only thing he could do was nod and try not to glance around at anyone. 

As Ian bent down, his breath caught, lodging in his chest just in time for Ian's lips to press into his. Taking his remaining breath away. Just a soft kiss, nothing passionate; but those were his favorite. 

The groan he gave in return was completely out of his control. Muffled by Ian's mouth, by his tequila flavored lips, by the heat of his body being so close, so fucking close but not close enough. 

Mickey reached out, gripping both of Ian's wrists, squeezing, pulling him closer in time for his legs to split, accommodating him. That's when Ian moved forward, forcing him to lean back against the bed, pulling Ian up with him.

"I want you." Ian said for the second time that night, speaking softly between kisses. 

"Want you, too." Mickey said just before another kiss. 

His hands moved up Ian's arms, feeling lean muscles tense, hardening. Then they slid to broad shoulders, practically clawing at his shirt, eager to feel skin. To see freckled, flushed skin. 

Mickey was flat on his back when Ian caged him in with his arms, making him feel small, delicate, safe. Like they were in their own little world, even in a room full of people. 

"You never called the cab." Ian smiled, stroking the side of his cheek. 

"Got distracted." Mickey replied, smiling shyly. His hands moved under Ian's shirt, confidently, causing Ian to move; rolling his hips down. "Fuck."

"I can't help it." Ian moved again, his eyes rolling back in his head. "You feel so good, Mick."

The more they moved, the hotter he became. Forcing sweat to coat his body, making his clothes stick together. Ian's too, his ribs were damp where he touched them, giving a little resistance as they slid up. 

"Maybe we can go into the bathroom." Ian suggested. "I don't think I can wait until we get home."

"Too many people around, they'll hear us." 

Another groan punched from his chest as Ian moved again. This time just the right way for him to feel the hard length of him, fully against his ass. He clenched, his feet hooked behind Ian's knees, urging him on. 

"They can see us, Mick. Who cares if they hear it?"

Amusement bled through the lust in Ian's voice. Enough for him to turn his head away from Ian to see more than a few people watching them. Eyes dark, hungry, licking their lips, tilting their heads, desperate for more. 

He nearly forgot about them. 

"You forgot, didn't you?" Ian asked, but he already knew. Pride welled inside him. "That is just…"

Mickey slapped his side. "You wanna keep talkin shit, or…?" He lifted his hips to finish the rest of that sentence and Ian's eyes closed halfway. 

"No talking, just this." Ian did it again, only this time he moved one hand down to Mickey's right hip, pressed it down to the bed, then rolled his hips. "God, that's so good."

Before Ian could say anything else, Mickey lifted enough to capture Ian's lips in a deep kiss. He turned his body at the same time, sending Ian wobbling to one side. He swallowed another deep groan from Ian, then rolled him the rest of the way to his back. 

"Mick." Ian whined, gripping his clothes to try and pull Mickey on top of him, but he resisted. "Please."

It was only when he was laying halfway on him, that Mickey realized how drunk he was. He swayed a little, Ian's face swirled, blurred out of focus and even shaking his head didn't clear it. 

"You're blurry."

Mickey smiled. "I was just about to say that actually."

For a moment, all they did was breathe. Waiting for it to pass so they could keep going. Only it seemed to worsen. 

"Hold on."

The queasy feeling came when Ian flipped them back over. Mickey was once again on his back, but now Ian lay beside him, on his right side, facing him with their legs tangled. 

"We drank way too fucking much." Mickey shut his eyes. By this point he wasn't trying to touch Ian anymore. 

"We did. Fuck." Ian replied and came close enough to rest his forehead against Mickey's shoulder. "M' dizzy."

Mickey put his hand against Ian's arm, just touching, keeping him close. "I'm gonna pass out." He said quietly, already feeling that black nothingness dragging him down. "Don't leave, okay?"

"I won't."

**

In the blink of an eye, Mickey went from a hot and heavy tumble in borrowed sheets, to being woken up. He reacted like anyone would, violently. 

He bolted awake, eyes almost glued together. Even as they opened, he couldn't see who touched him. He jerked away, then rubbed the corners of his eyes. 

Of course it would be him. The one person he was trying to keep away from, to keep Ian away from. The REGULAR. 

He looked just as good as he did last night. No crusties in his eyes, no bed head, no rumpled slept in clothing. Just a happy smile, fresh clothing and Mickey was instantly annoyed. 

"What?"

"I'm taking breakfast requests. Pancakes, French toast, or eggs?"

Was this guy serious? Who has basically a sex party, then takes individual food requests the next morning?

Mickey took a quick glance around. Everyone was up, aside from them. It would be embarrassing if his head would stop pounding. 

"Uuh, eggs." Mickey replied after a moment. 

"What about him?"

Mickey glanced over, Ian was sleeping beside him. Seemingly dead to the world and he felt his heart pound in his chest just looking at him. He was undeniably beautiful.

"How the fuck do I know, I'm not his keeper." Mickey snapped. As if he didn't want to be Ian's keeper, because he did. 

"Did you two meet last night or are you together?"

Was this guy serious? Did Ian not tell him what they were to each other? Was it not obvious? 

Maybe the guy was just being a nosey bitch, trying to see if he gave a different answer than he got from Ian last night. Or maybe he just didn't know. Either way, it hadn't stopped him from trying to fuck Ian half the night. Not even a little bit. 

"Together." Mickey said softly, yet fully confident for once in his life. He didn't even look at mister REGULAR, he looked at Ian, he always looked only at Ian. 

"You're a lucky dude." The guy said, then left. 

Mickey smiled a little as Ian shifted. His head turned to face him. Mickey laid back down, facing Ian, putting his hand right back on Ian's arm where it had been. Then just proceeded to watch him sleep, to study those faint freckles on his eyelids, his upper lip, until breakfast was ready. 

Ian's REGULAR was right. He was a lucky guy.


End file.
